The Crystal Stair, Pt. I

Khatire couldn’t seem to catch her breath, afraid to swallow the fouled air. The cut in her palm throbbed like heartache. She had just killed one of the precious vaimen. In the eyes of the emperor, her life was forfeit.

A gifted concubine must flee her emperor, but not without her infant son.

I have not spoken with my own voice in nearly seven years. I knew this would be my fate long before it happened—but only now do I understand what it means.

She is the voice of the king, until he cannot speak for himself.
Audio Fiction Podcast:
Architectural Constants

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A city, a librarian, a sentinel, and a silhouette.
From the Archives:
She would probably die before her world did.